by Alexa Riley
“No, you wouldn’t.” In desperation, I twist my hands in his collar and tug him down with all my might, bringing our mouths together. “Don’t listen to him,” I murmur against his lips. “Keep me.” Our tongues touch and a shudder passes through him. “Kiss me.”
“No, Clara.” He winds an arm around my waist and yanks me higher. “No.” His lips press mine wide, making room for our tongues to lick at each other. “Ahh, fuck, girl. You’ve got a little sugar mouth. It sucked me so good.”
“How could you say I touched you just to get back at my stepfather?” I whisper, planting kisses on his chin and cheeks between words. “You know it’s more than that. You know there’s something here.”
With a tortured groan, he breaks the kiss and steps back, that oversized part of him protruding behind his fly. “Real or not. We can’t see each other, again, Clara. I’ve been enough of a burden to my family. I can’t add this to my list of sins—and it would be a big one.”
I want to ask why he believes himself a burden, want to ask what happened between him and his family, but his jaw is firmed, as if to signal I won’t get anything of importance. Tonight, anyway. For right now, though, I’m not going down without a fight. I can’t let him take this incredible feeling of belonging with him and never experience it again. “My mom is surprising him with tickets to Bali tonight. They’re leaving in the morning for two weeks.”
“Why are you telling me this, dammit?”
“It’s nothing new. They go away all the time…but I have a dance showcase, two nights from now. It’s important. An instructor from my dream performing arts school will be there and I won’t have anyone there to watch me. Will you come?”
He hesitates. “No.”
“You’ll come.” A smile stretches across my face. “I know you will.”
“Don’t look at me like I’m your white knight. That ain’t me.” His tone is harsh. Mean. “You’ll know for sure when you wake up with a sore throat in the morning.”
Maybe I do have the devil’s seed between my legs, because I lift the hem of my dress and sway my hips side to side, letting him see me from the waist down. “I’ll be keeping this wrapped in a bow for you. Just like you asked, Uncle Rex.”
A heaved curse leaves him, his hands flying to the pool house doorframe and creaking it beneath his grip. I think he’s going to give in. To catch me up in his arms and take me to his home, wherever it is. Sweat pops up on his brow, his erection turning uncomfortable looking. From the direction of the main house, though, my stepfather calls my name and Rex smashes his fist into the door. And then he’s gone.
But I smile to myself as I return to the party, because I know it’s not the last time I’m going to see my big bad fisherman uncle.
Chapter Four
Rex
I’ve never been more out of place in my goddamn life.
How the hell do people fit in these auditorium chairs? The metal armrests dig into my sides and no amount of shifting dislodges them. I rummaged through my closet and found a dress jacket, but it’s snug around the shoulders. I’m seconds from ripping it if I stretch the wrong way.
What am I doing here? I should be picking up work, getting a spot on a crew until crab season picks up again in the fall—and staying the hell off of dry land. It’s what I do every year. Usually I take some time off right after crab season. But right now, I need to jump on anything to keep me away from Clara. Clara and the tight, virgin cunt she offered me.
Can’t take it. Won’t. I’m only here because someone should be supporting her on this important night. Couldn’t her mother book the vacation for one day after the showcase? Are they inconsiderate of Clara often? I don’t like that shit at all. For the last two days, I’ve thought a lot about what she told me. Not to mention what my brother said. They call her a daydreamer. Ridiculous. A baby. What other kinds of insults do they throw at this sweet girl?
And God, is she sweet. Not just her taste, but the way she pressed her face to my legs while I argued with my brother. Like…she was on my side. When has anyone ever been on my side? Unconditionally.
Never.
I shake off the unpleasant thoughts when the lights go out, soft classical music beginning to play. A group of ballerinas prance onto the stage. Soon as I confirm none of them are my niece, I begin scrolling through my text messages, the top one from a fisherman buddy of mine, Hank, inviting me on a hunting trip. Tomorrow.
I haven’t answered him yet, but common sense tells me I need to go. If I hang around town any longer, I’m going to find myself between two extremely off-limits thighs. Damn. If she hadn’t been so eager, hadn’t shown so much interest…I still would have found her fucking exquisite, but keeping it in my pants wouldn’t have been such a challenge. Knowing she wants it has my cock in a permanent upright position. Goddamn, she’s a sweet little thing. Can’t believe she wants me.
The memory of my brother’s angry face fades into another, angrier face from my past. My father’s. And before I can talk myself out of it, I respond to the text message, letting Hank know I’ll meet him at the lodge tomorrow morning. It’s only about an hour’s drive up the mountain, but I’ll have to leave bright and early if I want to catch them before their first outing. I can control myself long enough to watch Clara perform, congratulate her and go.
I like everything about you.
I’m distracted by the memory of Clara’s words and how they twist my stomach up when I notice murmuring around me. Music has been playing on the stage, but it cuts out now, a man in a tuxedo jogging out with a microphone. “Please excuse us while we take a short break,” he says, wiping sweat off his forehead. “The showcase will resume in a few minutes.”
“Here we go again,” someone behind me says with a chuckle. “What do you think she did this time? Ankle sprain? Ran into a pole?”
I need no further proof they’re talking about Clara. She’s hurt? Backstage? With a glare at the shitheads behind me—damn right I memorize their faces—I stand and squeeze my way down the row, trying not to step on anyone’s feet, but obviously failing since I keep hearing outraged yelps. Whispers follow me down the side row toward the door I hope leads backstage, but I’m only concerned with reaching Clara. Finding out what the hell is wrong and fixing it.
One step through the door and I come up short at a curtain. There’s a skinny fellow guarding it with a clipboard, but I ignore his sputtering and breeze on past. Soon as I’m on the other side, I see her. She’s on the floor, a lacy, pink skirt poofed out around her outstretched legs. Her shoulders are shuddering up and down as she tries to unwrap a Band-Aid. It’s only then I see the gash on her knee. I also notice there’s a bunch of girls her age standing in a circle around her, looking peeved and useless. No one is helping her—and that shit kicks up a fuss in my damn belly.
Clipboard man storms past me and wheels around. “You can’t be here, sir.”
“You want to eat that clipboard?”
He turns white. “No, sir.”
“Then fuck off,” I growl, shouldering my way past him.
I’m almost to Clara when she looks up, beaming at me with a thousand-watt smile. “You came.”
“Yeah.” Damn, she makes my ribs feel funny. Especially in that sparkly getup with all that glitter on her eyes. I’m not sure I can speak right yet, so I pull a bandana out of my back pocket and crouch down, pressing it to the bloody cut. I expect her to wince or start crying, but she just keeps on gazing at me with stars in her eyes. “Hold this down and stop the bleeding. I’ll open the Band-Aid.”
She does as she’s told…and my cock likes her obedience way too much. Likes it even more when I rip the Band-Aid open with my teeth and she gasps, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin material of her costume. “We’ve got an audience, Clara,” I mutter.
“What would you do if we didn’t?” she whispers back.
Probably pry your legs open and rut like a death row inmate. “Nothing,” I say, grateful my voice sounds firm. I ease the
bandana away and, satisfied the bleeding has stopped, I smooth the Band-Aid over her cut. “It hurt much, girl?”
“Not anymore.”
This is why I have to get out of town. She’s making it impossible to do the right thing. And the right thing is definitely not letting my attention travel up her bare thighs where they disappear into all that poofy, pink material. As if she senses me looking, she spreads them just a couple of inches and there it is. There’s her untapped pussy, covered in nothing but a narrow path of stretched pink silk. She’s just looking for a Daddy, my little niece. Isn’t she? Someone to bandage up her injuries and kiss her princess mouth.
Not me. It can’t be me. Not only am I related to her by marriage, but I’m too old and my soul is too black. She’s the purest thing on this earth.
Steeling myself against the attraction, I take Clara’s hands and help her stand up. I’ve been so absorbed in her, I’ve forgotten all about the mean-looking girls hanging around, sneering with their arms crossed. Clara must notice, too, because she hunches her shoulders. Which I don’t like one bit. Turning toward the bitch crew, I bare my teeth at them and growl—loud—sending them running.
“S-s-sir, you really must leave now,” stammers Clipboard Man, to my right, half of him hidden behind the curtain. “It’s just policy—”
“I’ll leave when I’m damn well ready.” I wait for his enthusiastic nod, before facing a giggling Clara again. Man, even her laugh sounds innocent. Untouched. Beautiful. “You going to be able to dance?” I manage.
“Yes,” she murmurs, smoothing her hands down the tight top of her costume. “Will you stay afterward? Please?”
Despite the eyes on us, I can’t help moving closer, trying to count the sparkles on her eyelids. “You know I shouldn’t.”
“You saved my night.” Her skirt brushes my legs and my dick turns to swollen, hanging meat. “You made everything better and I just want to say thank you.”
“Say it now,” I grit out. “Words only.”
She shakes her head, mischief shining in her eyes. “See you later, Uncle Rex.”
I have to untuck my shirt to cover my vicious cockstand, just so I can return to my seat. Everyone watches me curiously as the music starts once again, but as soon as Clara takes the stage, I see nothing but her, encased in glowing white light.
My life has been nothing but grit. Ropes, crab traps, icy death, danger. Before I started my career crabbing, I bounced at biker bars where I witnessed the shitty side of humanity on a regular basis. Ugly. All I’ve seen is ugliness. All I’ve heard is anger and cynicism. But watching Clara float around the stage like an angel, all the hardness inside me crumbles. Dear God, who knew this kind of beauty existed?
I know I should leave now, because there’s more here than inappropriate lust for something I can’t have. There’s…more. I want her smiles. Her trust. I want to scare off people who are mean to her. Tuck her into my arms at night. But none of that is possible, so I need to leave. Do my best to put Clara out of my mind.
But I remain glued to the seat, knowing—knowing—I’ll be staying after to get her thank you.
Chapter Five
Clara
I’m standing outside the auditorium and I don’t see Rex. Did he leave?
My heart sinks into my stomach at the possibility. I came on too strong backstage, didn’t I? God, he must think I’m a sex-starved lunatic. I practically begged him to climb on top of me in front of everyone. What is wrong with me?
It’s just that the sight of him makes everything south of my belly button feel…wobbly and ticklish. I get wet and flushed and my skin turns so sensitive, I want to scream. Once, I snuck a romance novel out of my mother’s nightstand just to read the sex scenes and I found it ridiculous. No way could a person lose control of their body in such a way. Oh, I was so wrong. When I see his hearty shoulders and that chest hair curling around the top of his shirt, my thighs spread themselves.
He always looks so mad—so irritable—but his words are like blankets straight from the dryer. As soon as he stomped backstage, looking like an avenging lumberjack, my blood sighed with safety. Here he is. I’m fine now.
But I probably scared him off, all but promising not to behave. As if being his step-niece isn’t enough to keep us separated, there’s something in his past—something involving my stepfather—that is making him twice as adamant to stay away. I wish I knew what it was—
“Clara.”
I whip around to find Rex standing in the shadows, down the stairs and to the right of the entrance, puffing on his cigar. When he puts it out with a twist of his boot, my belly cinches inward, my heart clattering like tin cans tied to a back bumper. I don’t want to question my instincts. I just want to follow them. Needing to be in his reassuring presence, I fly down the stairs, make a quick turn and take a flying leap into his arms. My legs twine around his waist in full view of everyone still filing out of the auditorium—and I guess that’s why Uncle Rex gives a low, punctuated grunt and walks us around the side of the building.
“Girl, you are asking for trouble.”
“You stayed.” I snuggle my face into his beard. “Does that mean you’re asking for it, too?”
“No.” Even as he makes the denial, his hands inch up my thighs, toward my backside. “Just wanted to tell you…I ain’t never seen anything like you. Up there. You move like some kind of angel.”
I’ve had instructors encourage me or give positive feedback, but my parents seemed to enjoy my dancing because it kept me out of the house. They’ve nodded their approval and paid the tuition, but I’ve never gotten this kind of praise from someone who matters. And never, ever so honest. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m going to kiss you now, Uncle Rex.”
He shakes his head. “No, girl. No.”
Voices reach me from the nearby parking lot. “If you’re afraid of people seeing, you could bring me somewhere.” I curl my fingers in his shirt collar and climb higher on his hips. “I’ll kiss you down there again, too. I’ll suck and play and do anything you want.”
His guttural groan hurts my eardrum. “Fuck.”
“That, too,” I whisper against his ear. “Is that what we would have done in the pool house, if we hadn’t gotten caught?”
“Five minutes later and my brother would have walked in and found me dripping in virgin blood.” He moves us further into the building’s shadow, his hands finally finding my bottom and punishing it. “Feels like it’s mine to take, but it ain’t.” His teeth press into my cheek. Hard. “But I’ll still kill any motherfucker for even thinking about taking it. It don’t make no sense.”
“Yes, it does,” I moan as he presses me back against the building, his bulk wedging between my legs. “We didn’t ask for your brother and my mom to get married. It’s not our fault.”
“Stop. Stop trying to talk me into this.” He thrusts hard into the cradle of my thighs, his groan splitting the night air. “It’s wrong, Clara. It’s wrong.”
Hump hump hump. Each one harder than the last. His mouth finds mine and we’re ravenous. His beard is coarse on my cheeks and chin, his tongue smooth and smoky as it licks against mine. Again and again. I need no interpretation to know his growl means “open wider.” I just do it. I open my mouth as much as I can, letting him invade it. Letting him pump me hard into the wall, my legs shaking with the force on either side of him.
“Hell, I knew it,” he rasps, kneading my backside, then holding it steady to receive his thrust. “Knew you’d be a good little fuck princess. Can’t help but please me, can you? Can’t help but spread everything open for Uncle’s use.”
“Yes,” I moan, static tickling my veins. Energy snaps inside me at the right. At the wrong. All of it. “Oh my God. Yes, yes, yes.”
“Yes, what?”
I sob once. Twice. “Yes, Uncle Rex.”
We spiral into a kiss after that and it’s so wet, so sexual, I’m whining in my throat by the time it’s over, clawing at his shoulders. He pants at my m
outh upon pulling away. “Where’s your car?”
“Um…” I search through my brain fog, finally coming up with an answer and pointing to the parking lot at the rear of the building. “There. The gray Camry.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before we’re striding in that direction, his hands roaming underneath my skirt, those callused fingers sliding beneath my thong, tracing the crack of my bottom. And all the while, I’m like a greedy koala bear, clinging to him and licking every patch of bare skin I can find. There’s not much except for his neck and an inch of chest, where I rake my teeth through that curly black hair that drives me insane.
We must have been kissing for a while, because my car is the only one left in the rear lot, although voices still carry from the front of the auditorium. As soon as we reach my car, Rex pushes me face down over the hood and lifts up my skirt. I’m still gasping when my thong is wrenched down to my ankles.
“Can’t bang you how I want, niece, but this sweet little ass is too tight and pretty to call a consolation prize.”
When I feel his tongue traveling down between my cheeks, I don’t expect it to feel so amazing. But when he gets where he’s going—that entrance I never imagined anyone touching—and he starts to bathe it with rough, thorough licks, my clitoris begins to tingle with epic sensitivity. More and more until my hands become fists on the hood of the car, screams trapping in my throat. What did he mean about my bottom being a consolation prize? Is he going to put himself inside me there?
I turn to watch over my shoulder, just as Rex straightens. My pussy swells and grows unbearably wet, watching him spit in his palm and stroke the saliva onto himself. He does it three times until his erection is huge and glistening in the moonlight, those thick, hair-covered balls resting in the V of his fly.